


The Heartbreaker Protocol

by LadyJaye



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, BAMF James "Rhodey" Rhodes, BAMF Tony Stark, Give me back my Rhodey, HYDRA sucks, Hydra (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes Needs a Hug, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-HYDRA Reveal, Psychological Torture, Scroll to bottom for spoilery warnings if you need to, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Shield Agent!Rhodey, Thief!Dad Tony, Thief!Tony, Torture, Torture tags are just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaye/pseuds/LadyJaye
Summary: The mission came up suddenly.That's what James was told. A weapons lab in Brussels had come under suspicion in the last six months and they were to extract the research and the chemical weapon they were set to make a profit off of. Last-minute briefing and gear up. Meet in the hangar at 0700. He didn’t question it and he wasn’t sure why. He should have when he saw Rumlow’s name come up on his roster. Rotten bastard. That should have been his first red flag.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54
Collections: Ironhusbands Big Bang 2020





	The Heartbreaker Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* Hey y'all! This story was done for the 2020 IronHusbands Big Bang! 
> 
> Please go check out JarvisUandDUMEToo's artwork for this fic! As always it's amazing! Thanks Jay! 
> 
> [ https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204235 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204235)
> 
> Thank you Positronic for the beta! 
> 
> As for the tags, please check the endnotes if you're concerned about any of them. I put in a brief description of what happens so you don't get surprised. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

The mission came up suddenly. 

That's what James was told. A weapons lab in Brussels had come under suspicion in the last six months and they were to extract the research and the chemical weapon they were set to make a profit off of. Last-minute briefing and gear up. Meet in the hangar at 0700. He didn’t question it and he wasn’t sure why. He should have when he saw Rumlow’s name come up on his roster. Rotten bastard. That should have been his first red flag. Actually, scratch that, he knew why he didn’t question it. 

He was coming off another boring vacation. Fourteen days spent visiting his family in Miami, where his sister and her husband, and thus his mother, had relocated for work. He got to see his nieces, swim in the ocean, have a cold beer with his brother in law, and take his Mom out for lunches where she did her dead level best to poke and prod him about his love life. 

She’d been dismayed to discover that yet again he had no special person in his life. No one waiting at home for him or prospects on the horizon that he was interested in. 

He sat there under shaded palm trees on a beachfront hole in the wall place they’d stumbled upon and winced under her interrogation like he was still a baby agent fresh out of training. SHIELD interrogators had nothing on Roberta Rhodes. If they knew he was sure they’d recruit her in a hurry. Another good reason to keep his family life and work-life separate. And why having a family of his own was out of the question. 

His mom insisted that he needed something else other than work to keep him occupied. James disagreed and that was how they usually left it. He’d tried that once and ended up having to walk away. Normally, that reminder helped the conversation die out. Instead, this time it started another argument because Roberta Rhodes has never backed down a day in her life and could see through her son in ten seconds flat. 

Yeah, SHIELD would be _riveted_ if they could watch the woman work. It was like watching one of those brain-sucking aliens as she stared across a table filled with ceviche and margaritas and gave him the most disappointed look he’d ever seen cross her face. Guilt welled up and he was a goner from one moment to the next. 

“You’re not happy, Jimmy,” she told him definitively. “If you seemed happy with your work I’d let it go but you never look anything but miserable when I see you anymore. Not like when you started at the company. Maybe it’s time for a change.” 

He couldn’t resist the soft smile any more than he could stop breathing. Those first few years had been nothing short of exhilarating thanks to---nope. He wasn’t going there. 

James snorted at that. “Mom, it’s not like that. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” 

“Seems like you're drowning in it.” 

She wasn’t wrong. And that was the problem and he knew it. He was in a rut. Commander Rogers said it happened to the best of them and James would love to talk to him about it but his friend was halfway around the world as he found out on his first day back at work. 

So was the rest of his team, called out on an op in Siberia just days before he was due back. 

James gritted his teeth and tried not to feel jealous. 

So, when Sitwell swung by the barracks no less than an hour later he jumped at the chance to head back into the field, the urge to just hit something overriding his good sense. 

Then he saw the roster and cursed a blue streak. 

*~*~*~*~*

He didn’t hate Rumlow. 

Barely knew him really. 

But the combination of Rumlow, Rollins, and Hallsinger made his skin crawl along with half the other agents tapped for the mission. They mostly stuck to themselves, which was a first. He’d been on a few missions with a combination of each of them and found that they talked too much. 

That should have been his second red flag. 

Fucking Rumlow. 

*~*~*~*~*

Things went sideways fast and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how or when, but he didn’t have the luxury to sit and pontificate the finer points of who did what when he found himself suddenly alone and running for cover in a back alley in Brussels. 

“Rumlow, come in!” 

Static. 

“Rollins! Halsinger! Anyone! Do you read?” he snapped over the line. 

More static. 

Fuck. 

He had the package, a compressed case of a deadly chemical weapon strapped to his back and was desperately trying to put distance between him and the men in hot pursuit. Why were the streets so fucking narrow here? He cut a fast turn around a corner and slammed so hard into the adjacent wall his teeth rattled. He had to get off the ground. Find a safe place to hole up and call for evac. Cold air was pumping through his lungs and burning in his throat as he panted and spun around. 

They were gaining on him, he could hear their shouts for directions and the steady pounding of boots on the ground. There were more of them now, coming from multiple directions; he’d be overwhelmed on his own. 

“Anyone read me?” James hissed. There was a sharp crack and he dropped into a crouch just as a bullet exploded against the brick wall he’d just been standing by. One-shot and then another against the wall of the direction he’d turned towards. He dove into the narrow alley to his left that would lead him west and up a set of stone steps. They were all around him now, he could hear them, and expected to have to dodge another shot.

There was nothing at all. He came up the stairs and was closer to the main thoroughfare. He could see people up ahead out and about on a night on the town. If he could get himself into the crowd he could lose them, but he didn’t get the chance. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, gun drawn apprehensively, he felt a sharp sting in his neck and grunted in pain. 

“Shit,” James groaned. He grasped the tiny metal dart between his fingers and pulled it out. Tipped, of course. 

He had to get out of here. He had to... he had... Rollins. He struggled to focus in on the face, even shook his head a few times as he swayed on his feet. Rollins, asshole that he was, just reached out and tapped his shoulder on the right side of a shove and watched James rock back on his feet against the wall. 

“What the fuck?” James only just barely managed to avoid slurring. Rollins had turned. And if Rollins had turned... he was well and truly fucked. Tweedle dum, tweedle dee, and tweedle dumber were never far from each other. And the longer James took to act the more likely he was to be caught. If his math was right he had about a minute and thirty seconds if all they used was a mild paralytic and less than 45 seconds if the kid gloves were off. 

With a lazy smile on his face, he thumbed along the small taser in his pocket. 10,000 volts ought to do it. Rollins smiled smugly as he reported their location and reached to turn him around and retrieve the weapon. 

_Move as they move._ A lovely phantom voice rumbled in his ear. He’d jammed the taser in Rollins’ lower back just as he wrapped a meaty hand around James’ bicep. Rollins cried out and dropped, the nerve endings in his legs going haywire, and the scent of urine filled the air. 

James didn’t wait for the other man to completely keel over before he was shoving off from the wall and stumbling into the crowd. At least he was still on his feet. He didn’t know if he should feel insulted or relieved. Rumlow always did underestimate him. So with a good 60 seconds left and his right arm starting to lose feeling he swung the pack off his shoulders and fished out the dog tags from beneath his shirt. God, he hoped this worked. He dropped the chain with one half into the bag and resealed everything uptight. 

Everything felt warm, like he’d been leaning back in a beach chair, letting his toes dig deep into the sand, watching the waves roll and crash against the surf. There was a man in the distance, rising up out of the waves. And whoa. How about that? They included a hallucinogenic too. He blinked back to the asphalt he’d collapsed onto and the open manhole cover he didn’t remember levering up. A pipe held it open. His left arm started to go funny, too. All loose and wobbly like. The bag dropped heavily into the sewer, blessedly well insulated and waterproof, and he hoped like hell he’d had enough time to knock the pipe down with it. His clothes clung to his back despite the frigid air. 

“Hey there team leader,” he heard Rumlow before he saw his boots come into view before his eyes. When had he fallen? His eyes had trouble focusing and breathing seemed out of the question with the alarmingly tight feeling in his chest like an engine block was resting on him keeping him in place. 

“Rumlow,” he tried to growl but it sounded breathy and weak even to his ears. He’d wrapped his fingers around what he hoped was Rumlow’s calf, wholly unsure as to what he expected to do next but wanting to keep fighting as long as he could. 

_Warmth, sand, salt in the air. A man stepped foot onto a beach. There was a smile, no eyes, no nose, just the plush curve of swollen lips._

“Can’t have you calling in reinforcements can we?” He heard above the rush of blood in his ears before he heard nothing at all. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

James came to mid-groan followed by a shuddering inhale, chained to a wall in what was definitely a cell. 

Perfect. 

Dark and dank with a suspicious smell he didn’t much care to identify. It was pretty much a dungeon right out of a horror film. His head lolled forward and he winced at the pinch in his muscles. His mouth felt like cotton and he had trouble swallowing back the gross taste that had settled there. It was right about then that he noticed the ache in his arms and just how high he’d been chained up. His bare toes brushed the cold stone floor enough for him to balance for as long as he could. 

Somewhere behind him, a door creaked open and shut. Measured footsteps clicked against the floor in an attempt to up the anticipation. 

“I see you’re pulling out all the stops,” he croaked, and now that the ache in his arms became more pronounced than pins and needles he strained to find a better position for balance. “Now are you just fulfilling your creative vision or just checking off all the boxes for your very vivid horror fantasies? Seems kinda predictable to me. Just a little lacking in originality.” 

He hated the way his voice rattled and his throat burned. Like he’d been screaming for hours. How long had he been here? Where even was here? And who…? 

“Agent Rhodes,” the voice was female, silken, and unrecognizable. Her accent was maddeningly plain, not quite American, but also indefinable as anything else as she continued. “I’m glad to see you conscious, again.” 

“Again?” James huffed. He didn’t remember and it really was either a blessing or a curse. Because even there, hung from his wrists in what had to at least make the top 10 of shittiest places on earth, he could see the octopus sprawled across her chest. Hydra. 

“Yes, you’ve been quite vocal but not very helpful. Let’s see if we can turn things around, shall we?” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey!” Tony shouted sleepily from the safety and comfort of his bed, jerking straight up in the darkened room, his heart jack rabbiting in his chest. He dragged a hand down his face and scratched at his beard. What fucking day was it? 

“J?” Tony groaned into his hands. “Slowly please. Don’t blind me this early in the morning.” 

“Good morning, sir,” JARVIS’ rich, English accented baritone greeted him primly. “It is 8:52 am on November 10th, 2020, you are at the Malibu residence, and it’s 67 degrees Fahrenheit outside.” 

“Cloudy skies?” Tony momentarily perked up. 

“Absolutely dreary today, Sir,” JARVIS answered amused. Tony clapped his hands together weakly. 

“Hey, that’s great news. It’s...why is it great news?” 

An audible sigh from an AI should have been disconcerting. Tony just felt his chest expand with pride. His baby boys were all growing up in new and amazing ways. 

“It’s--” 

“Oh, fuck!” Tony shouted, already rolling out of bed on unsteady feet. He rolled up to the balls of his feet and then back to his heels once before rushing out of the room. 

“Master--” 

“Oh, fuck!” He skidded into the hallway and took brisk strides towards the spiral staircase leading him down to the living room. He took them two at a time, dropping with a bounce in his step on each level until he reached the main floor. 

“--Peter’s--” 

Tony padded forward and squinted at the brightness. The blackout shades were already being pulled open on JARVIS’ command upping the brightness in small increments until Tony’s vision was fully adjusted. He could very easily find his way in the dark. It was the first thing he’d done when he moved to the Malibu house and started furnishing the place. Finding one’s way without the help of light could mean the difference between life and death in his world, so he was already approaching the kitchen by the time the lights were fully up and the California sun was beaming in through the living room. 

“JARVIS, what the hell?” 

“Partly cloudy skies, was the key phrase, sir.” 

“Hey, don’t yell at JARVIS just because you’re hard of hearing, old man.” 

There, slumped over a barstool and poking at a mug of coffee like it had offended him sat his apprentice. Well, one of them. 

“Well good morning to you, too.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Harley growled from the little fort he’d built with his folded arms. A veritable mop of wavy brown hair topped the whole thing off and even moved while Harley prodded the cup again. 

“Language, young man!” Tony said aghast. He walked directly past the younger man to his one true love, the coffee maker. The Belgium blend, nice. 

“Fuck you!” 

“Watch your fucking language under my roof, shithead,” Tony tossed over his shoulder, grabbing both a mug and the coffee carafe and heading over to the island. The mop of hair vibrated with laughter and Tony found he couldn’t hold his laughter in either. 

“Gremlin,” Tony said fondly as he poured the kid a full cup. 

“Geriatric windbag,” the other man replied. He sat up fully with an imprint of his jacket on his cheek and a fading shiner around his right eye. Tony raised an eyebrow at the bruise that had most definitely not been there a few days ago. 

“Geriatric windbag? That’s the best you got?” 

“Hey--” 

“Harley, I’m only 15 years older than you, you little shit.” 

“Still ancient.” 

“Ungrateful!” 

“Probably,” Harley smirked over his cup. 

“The sass I get in my own house,” Tony complained then took a large pull from his cup draining it by half. 

“Just think of all the things we say when your hearing aids are turned down,” Harley shot back, making Tony’s eyes go wide. 

“Solid,” Tony said, sliding into the seat beside him. “Bar fight or job. You better say bar fight.” 

“Uhhh bar fight?” 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” 

“Oh c’mon, Dad!” Harley grumbled. “I’m an adult.” 

“Gross,” he said automatically to the title, making Harley give him a little smile. “You’re 19.” 

“And legally an adult literally everywhere.” 

“We have rules in this house!” Tony groused gesturing to his son’s injury wildly and fixing him with a glare. “Rule number three!” 

“Who broke rule number three?” Another voice joined them. Tony didn’t glance up from his staring contest. 

“Happy Birthday, Pete!” They chorused immediately and simultaneously. Peter drifted into his field of view with his orange juice already in hand. He came over to lean on the opposite side of the counter to stare between them. 

“Thank you! I feel so loved already.” Peter grinned. His gaze jumped back and forth between them not willing to take his eyes off them even as he drank straight from the carton. And just what the hell was going on in his house lately? Had he stumbled into running a bed and breakfast for bikers? 

“Hey,” Tony snapped his fingers in Peter’s general direction. “Get a glass or put it back. We drink from glasses in this household. We’re not heathens!” 

Unperturbed, Peter continued to drink and Tony swore he caught Peter’s shrug out of the corner of his eye. Honestly! The sass! 

“Harley,” Tony snapped, having had just enough of this, then inhaled slowly. “Rule three.” 

“Never pull a job alone.” It sounded like Harley had to drag the words out of the depths of hell. The teen tilted his chin up defiantly. “Which is bullshit considering you’re you know, you!” 

“I have made plenty of mistakes to know better,” Tony said slowly. 

“That we rarely talk about!” 

“With good reason!” 

“Soooo are we gonna celebrate my birthday or what?” Peter muttered. 

“In a second, Pete. I lov---care about you both. We have rules for a reason. And until I see you’re ready you know you shouldn’t be pulling jobs on your own and definitely not without me there. You gotta think, Harls.” 

“I think,” Harley said just as evenly, “that it’s time to celebrate Pete’s birthday don’t you?” 

Tony pulled back and punched him in the arm. Harley cried out and nearly dropped his mug. 

“What happened?” 

“Guard rotation changed. I had to abandon my exit strategy and adapt on the fly!” Harley breathed out. “Jesus, Tony!” 

“And?” 

“I had to go out of a window.” 

Tony tapped his shoulder again. 

“Ow, fuck! This is child endangerment!” 

“You’re nineteen. And?!” 

“I may have fallen from the 3rd story.” 

“What!?” It was Peter’s turn to shout. 

Tony’s eyes were already roving over him trying to detect any injury and he was a second away from demanding JARVIS do a scan when Harley grunted out the last bit of his adventure. 

“Onto the roof of a catering van and then on the ground,” he finished sullenly. “But I think I did okay!” 

“I’m looking at that arm before we go anywhere today,” Tony said softly. “Kid, you can’t keep doing this.” 

“I’m fine!” 

“That’s not the--!” Tony’s voice rose then lowered to something less combative. He really wasn’t much different at 19. The only difference was... well... Howard and his pathological desire to see Tony fail. 

Which of course had led to bigger jobs and bigger risks. Things that Tony would never approve of for the two men in front of him who were, in essence, his kids if he had anything to say about it. 

“--that’s not the point,” Tony finished softly. “I ripped my arm right out of my socket like that once and just barely made it to safety before I could get picked up. And I was too young and too dumb to realize that at the time. Just because I did it is not a good excuse. Follow your gut, not the high. Nothing is that important.” 

Harley deflated and leaned his good arm on the counter and released his closed fist sending a thumb drive skidding across the countertop towards Peter. 

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. Peter snatched the thumb drive up before Tony could think to do it himself and held it up between two fingers. 

“Is this?” 

“New schematics for the Fiennes Security suite?” 

Peter sounded like the breath had been punched out of him when Harley nodded stiffly. A smile split his face, and like sunshine beaming down on him Harley’s face lit up at the approval. 

“That’s--you didn’t have to--I could have!” 

“And now you don’t have to. I wasn’t followed. I used my own crypto key to break into the server and JARVIS made sure I didn’t leave a footprint behind. The only reason I had a wrinkle is because of the guard. In and out in under 45 minutes,” Harley said proudly, grin going a little bit sappy. 

Tony felt like smacking his head on the countertop. He was also apparently running some kind of dating service. God help him if they didn’t figure it out soon. They were two of the sharpest most oblivious people he knew and he counted himself in that number. 

“So, we good?” Harley asked hesitantly, glancing his way. Tony frowned and opened his mouth to answer, hoping like hell he could shake some sense into the kid. To get him to see that one day being a half a minute slower could get him arrested, killed, or worse off somewhere wishing he had been. That Tony was the exception and most thieves retired when they were dead. 

“Yeah, kid we’re good,” Tony breathed out and watched the relief flutter across his expression. Unable to help himself he lifted his arm and let Harley slide over against his chest to get a hug, half expecting him to tell him to fuck off as he did. Harley went to him easily, quickly wrapping his good arm around Tony’s back and squeezing once before letting go and sending Tony a look that read “Don’t get used to it.” Unusual, but nice. He’d take it. 

Harley eased back into his seat and as always his gaze swung, like a magnet, back to Peter already softening when he saw Peter still staring at the drive in the palm of his hand with awe. It was a nice moment. Tony could admit that with all the insanity that usually followed them he knew when to take a second and just enjoy it. They were both adults now and more likely to abandon the nest. 

The moment broke when Peter’s gaze snapped to Harley’s going firm and with a stern voice he pointed back at him looking like an affronted schoolmarm about to wag his finger in Harley’s general direction. 

“Thank you,” he said in that soft voice of his. “Don’t do it again!” 

Harley pouted for the rest of the day. 

\-------------

“Sir?” 

The rich baritone of Tony’s mentor came over the speakers loud and clear. Tony just wasn’t listening. His face was awash in the glowing blue lights of his holo screens, each displaying a different scenario for him to ponder.

Tony hated ViaStone’s heuristic algorithm with every fiber of his being. Bypass the blah blah and he activated blah blah protocol. Cut through the blah blah and he ran the risk of bringing down several tons of steel gates designed to trap him one way or another until it brought down the authorities, or rather ex-Navy Seals who now worked for ViaStone, on his neck. That was not how he wanted to spend Peter’s birthday weekend. His kid deserved a nice thrilling heist to celebrate his adulthood.

The system adapted as quickly as Tony figured out a workaround and at that rate, he’d end up dead quicker than he’d scrape the surface of their security protocols. No matter, there was a fix. There was always a fix. He twirled the glowing holo screen in front of him this way and that. No system was perfect. There was always a weakness to exploit and an opportunity for him to capitalize on. 

“Sir?” JARVIS prodded again more insistently while Tony bypassed another security measure only to be held up by, you guessed it, another roadblock. This time it was a five-point laser grid system blocking the ventilation shaft leading from the server room that guaranteed a bad afternoon and death by killbox. Hmm. 

“Sir!” Tony huffed and reset his simulation, ready to start again. It seemed his AI had other ideas. 

“I ate already,” Tony reminded him, already prepared to head his nagging off at the pass. 

“8 hours ago, sir--” 

“Right so I’m good for another three at least.” 

“--there’s been a development--” 

“I’m sure it can wait,” Tony muttered, leaning back in his chair for a stretch. If this was what Howard went through when Tony was coming up then he had a somewhat new appreciation for his father’s patience or lack thereof, really. Tony was about ready to throw in the towel and actually retire at this point. Not like the seven other times, he said he’d retire only to turn up with a newer, more risky score. In his father’s day, he’d spent all his time learning how to charm his way through almost any situation so he could inevitably be in front of a safe in dire need of cracking. Tony, on the other hand, had learned differently. 

God, he’d been at this for hours. There had to be a way to circumvent the security once he left the server room. Some way for the system to believe he was in two places at once. 

“The ‘Heartbreaker’ protocol has gone active,” JARVIS finally managed to get a word in edgewise, and Tony froze in place with his simulation still running. It errored out and yet again flashed red in his face at another unsuccessful test run. 

“J, repeat that?” 

JARVIS did as requested. 

“Fuck.” 

“Indeed, sir.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_They met in Berlin in 2003._

_One trying to protect a hundred million dollars worth of technology that rested in a single microchip and the other using every one of his considerable set of skills to steal it. Naturally, the only time this could possibly take place is during the annual charity benefit of something or other._

_Tony doesn’t remember. What he does remember is the first time he saw James Rhodes decked out in his customary black suit, surprisingly fitted considering the rest of his team couldn’t seem to muster the effort and only adhered to the standard bland look._

_James Rhodes was just barely coming off the high of his first big op before he was tossed on a flight to Germany with a team of twelve and told to keep the chip safe at all costs while SHIELD brokered a deal with its owner, tech magnate, Cole Wyndham._

_Tony, with several interested parties in the wings, had other plans and made it his business to not only gain an invitation to the party but access to the second floor safe in Stein’s office. So he played the game, dressed in a crisp looking tux, found time to skirt the edge of the party, threw back a few glasses of top-shelf scotch, and ambled off in search of a restroom._

_The simplest plays really were the best._

_His first obstacle was a beefy looking guard hovering over the main hall where the guests would have to pass through to get to the event and where anyone else would have to endure questioning and stern eyebrows of justice bearing down on them. That was easy with the alcohol on his breath and the stumble to his walk. Vomit, it seemed, was something even experienced SHIELD agents couldn’t handle. The second was easily rectified by slipping around the next corner and keeping ahead of the guard’s travel path so he could slip into one of only a few rooms in the house with adjoining rooms. It made skirting around the third guard as seamless as waiting for him to walk by on another pass so Tony could step out into the hallway and up what had been labeled on the plans as a service staircase._

_Simple as that._

_There was only one guard left between himself and the third floor exit that would lead him from the stairs to the safe, a guy who appeared to be one of those punctual types, which suited Tony just fine. They rotated out the guys on the third floor for ten minutes every other hour for breaks. Mr. Punctuality clearly had tiny bladder syndrome with a habit of already heading towards the main stairs as his counterpart was coming up. Probably thinking that the less than a few minute timeframe was low risk._

_Two minutes._

_So, Tony listened for the hurried set of steps leading away from him and made his move from the stairwell to the office parallel to him. Locked, of course, and if he had to rely on traditional means to pick the lock he’d have been screwed right about then. He slid his custom-made electric pick from his pocket and went to work._

_He’d been surprised that the house didn’t have much more by the way of security and more than a little disappointed. He anticipated several countermeasures in place going into the home of a recently appointed CEO of the fourth largest tech conglomerate in Europe, but he guessed it made sense. Wyndham had barely been in the job for three weeks putting out fires his predecessor started and rallying his team around the only product they had left that was worthwhile. Naturally, that’s when SHIELD swept in with its promise of government funding and contracts that could save their asses._

_The best part of this though, the thing that made cracking a weak safe and circumventing even weaker security measures worth it, was that everyone had their eyes set on breaking into the flagship location of the business some 50 miles away. While Wyndham hadn’t been wrong to assume thieves and spies would hit the company first before ever considering his “humble abode” he’d been gravely mistaken in assuming that no one would think to come here first._

_So, here he was._

_One minute._

_Low murmurs could be heard down the hall just as the tumblers slipped into place in an orderly fashion along with a soft click. The voices grew louder and more jovial. Perhaps Mr. Punctual and agent whoever were friends. It didn't matter much because Tony was already gently pushing the door closed behind him._

_\-----_

_Just off a thirteen-hour flight coming from a tiny two-day break from an already intense mission, James was tired. Not enough to back out of the mission but just enough to wish he had. But his ambitions were calling and he liked that Fury seemed to approve of his tenacity and besides, what else was he going to do at home? Sleep? Maybe for a few hours at best with the jetlag hanging over him. Paperwork? He still wasn’t allowed to bring home case files so that was out. He could have gone out. Seen some friends. Met some people. Exhausting himself some more trying to play this cover identity while also trying to seek out meaningful connections to others sounded less exciting than standing around as a glorified security guard in some rich guy’s mansion._

_Wasn’t even much of a contest. Aside from the tacky decor, he had to stare at all night at least the food was good. He arrived as extra relief like a good little agent, was briefed by his team leader, and sent on his way to relieve the first shift at his post. 3rd floor along with another agent who kept watch on the so-called east wing of the building, while James kept an eye on the office housing the safe in the “west wing.” The safe that on record held nothing but cash and important documents but in reality held the key to SHIELD’s future, or so Fury liked to call it. Easy job, he’d been told upfront._

_He checked his watch as he climbed the stairs, nodding in acknowledgment at the other agents posted along the way. Six minutes early. At least the first shift agent would be happy._

_Easy job. Right._

_No less than ten minutes after he started his shift and completed his first-round things got interesting. And by interesting he meant that very suddenly he found himself standing in what was meant to be an empty hallway with someone else._

_He couldn’t have been much younger than James himself. Maybe nineteen or twenty? He had a clean-shaven baby face look that was even more pronounced by the high flush spreading across his cheeks. He was also halfway out of the door to the office he definitely shouldn’t have been able to reach._

_A door that should be locked._

_“Sir, are you aware this is a restricted area?” James asked mostly out of obligation to protocol._

_James narrowed his eyes at the man. He looked up at him with wide whisky brown eyes as if shocked to see James there. As quickly as it had appeared the shock receded completely into something a little more lascivious. A stare that raked up and down James’ form lazily like they had minutes to burn, traversing from head to toe as a slow, devastatingly handsome smile curled across the plush curve of the other man’s lips. Lips that were very quickly pulled between sharp teeth. A light tingle ran down the length of James's spine leaving warmth in its wake that only seemed to want to spread through the rest of him._

_Jesus, had it been that long that he was getting a partial for a criminal?_

_“There’s no chance you would believe I got lost on my way to the bathroom would you?”_

_James snorted and with a slow shake of his head dispelled that possibility. The thief released his abused lower lip and cursed._

_“I was hoping for a smooth exit,” the thief said._

_“Can’t say that I’m sorry to ruin your plans,” James said, hand already starting to go towards his gun. The man had yet to tense up like a person who had been caught out would. He remained loose-limbed and jovial like they’d just happened upon each other on the street or in a bar rather than in the hallway of a multimillionaire’s mansion._

_The thief smiled and strolled forward with a little bounce in his step. His eyes swept the rest of the hallway behind James, clearly the only exit unless you considered the window and they were three floors up with a window that didn’t open._

_“You’re not supposed to be here. I had this down to the minute. To the second! Couldn’t wait to get to work for a wildly stimulating night of staring at the late 19th-century wallpaper? What are you, some kind of boy scout?” the thief demanded, coming ever closer. At about three feet away James pulled his gun._

_“That’s close enough,” James growled._

_*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Tony tipped his head to the side._

_When was the last time he could say that having a gun pointed at his chest wasn’t nearly as interesting as the man with his finger on the trigger? By all accounts, he should have been terrified and already anticipating new avenues of escape but at the moment his brain had simply dismissed the notion of danger altogether._

_The guard or, rather, Tony should say, agent, based on the rigid posture and near militaristic stance, was glaring at him with such a look of righteousness Tony had the vague thought to put his precious little package back where he found it, hold his hands out in surrender, and let the man cuff him where he stood._

_He practically screamed authority and normally that would chafe at Tony’s delicate sensibilities but the way the man’s dark eyes pinned him into place had him warm all over in new and surprising ways. Was it the suit? No, too cheap for all that it hugged the other man’s form. The gun? Not the first time he’d had one pointed at him in the last week even._

_He tilted his head to the other side and watched as the man’s shoulders tensed, muscles bunching beneath the fabric of his jacket and following through down to his thighs. It was a shame for such beauty to be confined and perhaps that was what it was. The other’s muscles twitched and bunched while his eyes darkened even further than Tony thought possible while his finger set and reset along the trigger._

_Oh, he was spoiling for a fight. He lacked the usual boring adherence to the rules that the men downstairs had._

_“Funny,” Tony answered him, only coming to stop when the muzzle of the gun was pressed just lightly against his chest. “I was thinking that I wasn’t close enough. Did I get that wrong, honey bunches?”_

_The agent actually grinned at him. This guy wasn’t a boy scout. He was eager, which was almost worse. Unable to wait for another second, Tony swung his right shoulder to the side while reaching up and grasping the slide on the top of the gun. The explosion of pain in his left shoulder told him he was seconds too late to prevent the shot (thank God for kevlar) but lucky enough to put a stop to the automatic reload. It bought him a few precious seconds to attempt a disarm by wrapping his left hand around the back end of the handle and tugging the gun down._

_Quicker than Tony thought possible, the other man yanked him forward and off-balance, sending him crashing against the man’s chest. Tony took the opportunity to tangle their legs together, forcing them to both to fall to the floor with identical grunts of pain. The gun thumped softly against the plush carpet._

_They grappled with each other, each struggling to gain the upper hand as they rolled around, doubly so for the other guy as Tony landed a blow to his face with his elbow as he tried to scramble to his feet. The guy snarled back at Tony and jammed his fist into Tony’s side, catching the back of Tony’s knee with his other hand and sending him back to the ground next to him._

_Unfortunately, the fall landed him within arms reach of the gun, which Tony didn’t hesitate to aim directly between the agent’s widened eyes._

_“There, that’s better,” Tony said._

_Somehow they’d ended up on their sides with one of the agent’s hands wrinkling a lapel of Tony’s jacket, both of them breathing heavily._

_“Who taught you to fight dirty like that?”_

_“My Aunt,” Tony perked up. “Lovely woman with the meanest right hook. Terrible at baking though.”_

_Mr. Agent’s eyebrows shot up and Tony just grinned. If he met his aunt he’d understand immediately._

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_The thief held his aim while James glared up at him with one hand held up by his head in surrender and the other mercifully gripping his back up sidearm. His heart was racing wildly in his chest but strangely not out of apprehension. If this guy wanted him dead he’d have a bullet in him by now._

_The thief inched backward in the direction of the window, while James still kept an ear out for reinforcements. They had to have heard the gunshot. Which meant--ah, yes--several heavy sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. He just had to keep this guy here. Just a couple more minutes._

_“Listen here, Sour Puss--can I call you that? Yeah, I’m going with it,” James resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man holding a gun on him. Instead, he artfully rolled to his feet, challenging him to take the shot if he really wanted, a risk but a low one at that. He finally unholstered his gun and took aim._

_“I don’t appreciate nicknames,” James answered him. “I don’t know you like that, so maybe you just call me Agent Rhodes and I call you arrested.”_

_The other man pouted. Actually, honest to God poked his abused, red lower lip out in what could only be described as adorable dissatisfaction. James’ heart skipped a beat then decided to go into overdrive. Honeyed eyes flickered in disappointment before receding to that infuriatingly lazy little smirk._

_“How about you be a good boy, drop the gun, put your hands behind your head and turn around and I will make sure you get the comfiest seat in the van on your way to lock up.”_

_The thief seemed to consider it then shook his head. He’d backed himself against the wall and clearly had nowhere to go. James really didn’t want to have to shoot this kid._

_“Gotta get past the first date for that kind of action, Agent Rhodes,” the thief purred, sending a shiver down James’ spine. “What kind of man do you take me for?”_

_He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound and flash of the other man’s gun. He ducked and darted to the side, trying to make himself smaller as several more rounds went off and the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs intensified._

_"Gotta say, Agent Rhodes," the thief called out. I love the fight in you."_

_“Son of a bitch,” James growled. His arm burned against his side just below his shoulder, a graze by the feel of it. By the time he looked up the hallway was empty and his colleagues were swarming the floor. He rushed to the closed window and then back to the office. Nothing._

_The only evidence left in the hallway were several discarded shell casings._

_“What the hell?” James breathed not only in disbelief of the last, apparently, 15 minutes but the fact that he couldn’t get that damned smirk out of his head._

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

“Hey there, boss,” James grimaced at the sound of Rumlow’s voice than the sudden light spilling into the room causing a cascade of pain from his eyes to the ever present throbbing in his temples. 

It had been 4 days? He couldn’t be sure. They kept disrupting his sleep schedule by dragging him out of the room for interrogation. It got to the point where he could only reasonably assume he got a good 3 hours total a day. He’d started by counting the seconds in an hour but that didn't last long past the first few interrogations. They initially took care to return him to his original position each time, until what he thought of as day three when they finally accepted that he was neither going to break easily nor quickly enough for their tastes, and they instead took to chaining him to the floor. 

A relief and a burden considering the dual sensations of pins and needles in his legs and the cold dampness that seemed to seep into his bones. 

The food was gross but not the worst. This wasn’t his first rodeo being captured. At least Hydra seemed to be providing him something decent and not chock full of mealworms. However, unlike last time, he wasn’t in the sticky cloying heat of a Venezuelan forest and he was alone. 

Hearing Rumlow after several hours with only himself for company actually made him perk up and he couldn’t figure out which was worse. That Rumlow was probably here to torture him, as their patience was running thin, or that James was mildly interested in the excitement. 

“Think you can get your manager for me? I’m this close to writing a strongly worded review on Yelp when I get home. Shitty bed, worse food, sloppy accommodations all around, and the heat sucks.” 

Rumlow chuckled and crouched down so they were at eye level. The asshole had the audacity to come in here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. James would kill for a cup of coffee right about then. If not to drink then to at least toss it in the smug bastard’s face. 

“You know, believe it or not, I admire you. Agent James Rhodes, wonderboy recruited right out of college. Just plucked from his AFROTC class to do his patriotic duty in the shadows,” Rumlow said head tilted to the side as his eyes went distant. “So much chatter when you came up as Fury’s pet project.” 

“Still mad no one took an interest in you?” James prodded at the wound. Rumlow had been there for years when James got recruited. Had been a solid operator with no chance at a leadership position outside of the occasional team lead gig when absolutely necessary. Stealth was not in Rumlow’s wheelhouse without supervision and with too many jobs under his belt where the objective had been achieved with too high a price or too many eyes on SHIELD. The interest in his future with SHIELD had long dried up by the time James Rhodes’ file fell into Nick Fury’s lap. 

James winced around a grin at the immediate tensing of his former teammate’s jaw. Still stung, huh? 

“Considering our current predicament I guess Fury had it right from jump street. I mean, Hydra? I thought you had standards. How long did it take for you to flip for them? Did they at least blackmail you or did you go running to them the first time you got demoted?”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Rumlow growled, the heat and fetid smell of his breath puffed over James’ cheeks making his nose wrinkle in disgust. 

“Or,” James mused, “did they just see you for the pathetic little weasel you are and said, ‘hey, easy pickings’?” 

James gasped around the easy slide of a blade between his ribs. A dark look had clouded over Rumlows features as he jerked his hand sharply to the left and twisted the blade. James clamped his teeth together and groaned, having no desire to give him the satisfaction of hearing him scream. A frisson of fear raced through him. It was a bit too early for that wasn’t it? 

Unless James had been there much longer than he thought.

That was mildly alarming. While he wasn’t entirely sure how long, he was sure it had at least been 24-48 hours since they were supposed to have already arrived back at the Triskellion base. Standard protocol with a retrieval op was for the team to check in once they were already on the return trip home. SHIELD had to know they were missing and likely, more importantly, that the package could be out in the wind. So, where were they? 

“Keep talking,” Rumlow snarled. Clearly, James had touched a nerve. It was a pity he was too busy struggling to stay calm in the face of his accelerated heart rate and the wet ooze of blood soaking through his shirt. “No, I mean it, keep talking. All that bullshit with SHIELD and you’re still bleeding out. Did you figure it out yet? They’re not coming. No one is.” 

Slowly, he pulled the knife back, seeming to enjoy the hiss James let out. He grabbed James’ free hand and pressed it firmly to the wound. Not really to help stop the flow but as if to remind James just how dependent he was on him to survive these next few minutes. He was already beginning to feel weak. 

“Someone will,” James managed as he struggled to get his breathing under control. He tried to put more pressure on the wound but lacked sufficient leverage to do much good. It was like putting a tissue over a running faucet. 

“Nah, they won’t. Right about now, SHIELD thinks you’ve extended your vacation,” Rumlow said with a shrug. “This job isn’t even on the books. There’s no one waiting back home. Your team is still on assignment and by the time they get back and realize something is up, you’ll be dead.” 

Rumlow stood and wiped his knife on his pants before sheathing it in his thigh holster. James blinked up at him feeling dizzy all of a sudden. 

“I wasn’t kidding. Keep talking, Rhodes. Your best bet is to give up the weapon before we find it ourselves,” he said then jerked his head in the direction of the door. “The doctor will be in soon. Try and stay awake for him will ya?” 

James glared at him as he sauntered out, worried for the first time since he woke up in Hydra’s tender care. Perhaps he’d already run out of time.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Can you at least tell us where you’re going?” Peter wanted to know from his perch atop one of Tony’s workbenches with a bag of half-eaten popcorn in his lap, swinging his legs back and forth, eyes jumping from Tony’s harried movements and Harley’s efforts to make the man stop and explain himself. 

Tony paused in his frantic search for his favorite brand of C4. 

“As I’ve already said, absolutely not. Pete, get down from there!” 

Harley slid right in front of him to block his path to the cabinet housing some of his favorite explosive components. He was about Tony’s height standing, though he was still much leaner, and pinned his mentor in place with a hard look. 

“It’s Peter’s birthday!” 

“I’m aware,” Tony answered. Where the hell was his--? Ah, yes. He grabbed up a worn looking pouch full of lock picking tools. As much as he favored his electric pick he rarely left home without these little guys for backup. And this was... James. He couldn’t spare anything but the best. Jeez, where was his bulletproof vest? He’d need one for James, too. And a first aid kit, an accelerant if things were going to get messy, at least one pistol with a silencer, and his god damned C4!

“We had plans! He’ll be all broken up about it!” 

“No I won’t,” Peter answered munching on his popcorn and for the most part gleefully staying out of their arguments by being a more than willing spectator. Tony didn’t miss the annoyed look Harley sent Peter and took that as an opening to sidestep Harley to get to the cabinet. He didn’t have time to waste. 

“Aside from that!” Harley snapped. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this? As in THIS MORNING?” 

Tony hummed and counted the packs he needed before loading them into his bag zipping it up and starting on actual firearms. Grenades. He’d definitely need grenades. 

“What the hell is the Heartbreaker Protocol anyway?” 

“I don’t have time to explain right now, Harley!” 

  
  


“Why is it okay for you to run off on some sort of secret job that apparently requires high amounts of explosives and leave us behind without a word? ” Harley barrelled on unperturbed by Tony’s manic ramblings. 

“Dad!” Harley shouted. And that did cut through Tony’s rising panic and fear. He looked up for the first time since he’d received JARVIS’ intel and noticed the boys that he was leaving for a little while. Harley looked like a wreck, face drawn and an angry flush rising up his neck. He’d been gesticulating wildly and when Tony actually met his worried gaze the younger man’s arms dropped leadened to his sides. Peter was halfway off the table and whether or not he was going to try to get between them or not Tony couldn’t guess. “C’mon, Dad.”

Tony let out a shaky breath and rubbed against his already tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He didn’t have time for this but he also didn’t have the luxury of just jetting off by himself anymore without a care in the world. He had people, as weird as it felt sometimes, people that would care and worry, and no matter how much they joked about it, were more family to him than his own flesh and blood. 

And they were looking at him like they were scared he’d fly apart at any moment because, well, they’d never seen him like this before. Shit. It would freak him out, too if he’d ever seen Jarvis flying off the handle like this. 

“Gross,” his voice came out as little more than a croak around the guilt building in his chest. Harley didn’t laugh but his lips did twitch upwards for just a second. 

“Alright, listen, both of you,” he dragged Harley closer and motioned Peter to do the same as he spoke. “I can’t answer all of your questions. I literally am on a timeline that could mean life or death.” 

“For who!?” 

Tony sent them both a stern glare and their mouths snapped shut so quickly Tony wondered if their teeth rattled in their jaws. 

“The heartbreaker is for someone I care about deeply. He’s family to me whether he believes it to be true or not. No, I’m not getting into it. Like I said, I don’t have the time. This is something that I have to do on my own because number one, it’s highly dangerous, and number two is definitely not your fight. This person is hurt and in the epitome of a bad place and I need to go get him, okay? That’s what family does for each other right?” 

“Family also lets each other help them,” Harley grumbled. 

“Yeah, but as the senior member of _this_ family, I’m gonna have to veto that just this once. I’m serious. Do not come looking for me. Do not follow me. If you give a single solitary shit about me at all you’ll do as I ask because I can’t worry about him and the both of you at the same time.” 

“Alright, Dad,” Peter sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest but looked up at Tony with sad resignation making him wish just for a second that he had more time to make them understand that he was coming home. To remind Peter that he had no plans of up and dying on him as everyone else in his life had. To shake some sense into his other, stubborn as the day is long, son to keep him from doing the exact opposite of what Tony asked him to do the minute Tony stepped foot outside. 

“Pete,” Tony prodded. “I’m coming back, alright?” 

Peter huffed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. You wouldn’t be going if it weren’t important, right?” 

“Right,” Tony confirmed and then looked at Harley who just glared back at him as obstinate as usual. “Please, kid?” 

“Fine,” Harley sounded like it had been painful to say the single word as he slumped against him. With a firm squeeze of their shoulders, he grimaced and looked around his workshop, which was in a perpetual state of disarray. 

“I’m gonna need at least 200 feet of det cord and Plan D.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James clenched his jaw against the onset of throbbing pain radiating from the back of his neck all the way up to his forehead. He slumped forward, careful to avoid pulling at his stitches from Rumlow’s handiwork, so he could prop his elbow on his knee and thus give his neck a rest. He felt stiff all over and had been ever since they somehow turned up the heat in his cell. It didn’t completely dry up the water leaking in from who knew where but it did succeed in making the air thick, unbearably sticky, and hot. 

His clothes were drenched in his own sweat and urine. Another layer of humiliation piled on. Too bad for Hydra he’d gone nose deaf ages ago. 

The good news was that they had unintentionally given him a foolproof way to tell time. Ever since the heat turned on James was sweating bullets. It felt like his body was squeezing out every bit of moisture. The next day with breakfast he was given a plate full of bacon and eggs that not only had his suspicions up but had his mouthwatering and stomach growling. At the time he’d thought that if it were going to be his last meal he could do worse. He’d already estimated that he’d been in their care for no less than five days. 

Their patience had to be wearing thin. Sometimes he wished they would just get it over with but would then mentally shake himself out of such thoughts. Then again, Hydra wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality or their mercy. The answer came to him with a strip of bacon halfway to his mouth. On his tray was the plate of food and what would usually be a cup of water that was given to him empty. That was when he really began counting. 

Two meals a day became three meals a day. All salty and carb-loaded with no water in sight. So that’s how he was going to go. He wasn’t sure if he’d have actually preferred something a little more violent. That was two days ago. His mouth had since filled with saliva and dried in turns until it felt like it was full of cotton balls. Another round of dizziness crept up on him and he swayed in his spot, head spinning. He closed his eyes, anything to keep rising nausea at bay, and inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. 

The fact that they hadn’t found the device yet was a comfort. He wouldn’t be alive if they had. He was sure Rumlow would waltz in and gloat before putting a bullet between his eyes just to be sure James died knowing he’d failed. 

He hadn’t failed yet. He’d done his job. It just didn’t have the expected outcome and that was okay. He rationalized it over and over. A loss for Hydra was a win for everyone else. He’d just thought... he’d have more time. He looked down at the bruised arm resting on his lap. Now that the dizzy spell had subsided he felt like he could focus just a bit more. He ran his thumb along the inside of his ring finger on his left hand. The tan lines were long gone along with the indent from the ring itself. Not a single shred of evidence that it had existed at all. 

His lips twitched upward despite the groan of the door opening and familiar, heavy, booted footsteps approaching. He’d already decided that he was going to just close his eyes this time when they questioned him and think of bright whisky colored eyes peering up at him through long lashes and a mischievous smile curving kiss bitten lips. His eyes slid closed in anticipation. With his head hung low he was sure he looked defeated to Rumlow’s roving eyes. 

“There he is,” Rumlow started. James sighed and pretended that instead, he was listening to a honeyed voice speak in low tones in his ear. Imagined he could feel the rumble of his ex-husband’s voice against his cheek. “How ya doing there, pal?” 

James didn’t respond. Refused to give Rumlow the satisfaction of hearing his voice rough and dry due to the dehydration. He liked to drop by a couple times a day with a full canteen of cool water with which to taunt him. Because clearly they thought he’d be desperate enough to cave for a sip knowing full and well they were just as likely to kill him either way. 

He could hear the sloshing of the water in the canteen as Rumlow uncapped it and wiggled the container near James’ face. 

“You don’t look so good,” Rumlow continued conversationally. Smug bastard. He was enjoying this. Of course, he was. “Honestly between you and me I’d just as soon use more painful, expedient methods to get you to open your damn mouth but I gotta follow the chain of command. You know how it is, right? She _is_ getting fed up though. And you know what happens then.” 

He paused and James could already pick up the familiar ‘glug glug’ sound of him guzzling down the precious resource. James felt his throat constrict and his tongue sluggishly push at his teeth. His stomach cramped something fierce and he let loose a soft pained grunt. 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. If this hasn’t softened you up enough in a couple more days, then I get to try things my way. The fun way. I’m gonna pry every bit of intel I can out of your thick fucking skull before--” 

Metal clanked against the ground followed by a high-pitched whine. James’ eyes flew open in time to catch Rumlow sinking bonelessly to his knees, his eyes widened in horror. His hand had a loose grip on the canteen that was now going completely slack. The canteen started to tip and slide over lifeless fingers. James snatched it up before it could fully fall over and spill its contents. Rumlow’s slackened features contradicted the fear in his eyes. By expression alone, he looked like he could be relaxed. 

Rumlow’s terrified gaze appeared frozen and locked on James accusingly. Like he’d done this to him chained up and dying as he was. He glanced down at the bottle and his tongue darted out to rove over dry lips. Was it the water? Maybe it was poisoned? If it was poisoned he couldn’t drink it. His eyes flicked from the bottle to Rumlow and back to the bottle. 

If it were poisoned, his gaze narrowed, wouldn’t Rumlow be dead by now? Unless it was designed to make him suffer in which case James was grateful he’d get a show before he died. 

Footsteps drew his attention to the open door. Light but moving with assured purpose and confidence. Not the usual heavy thuds of boots against concrete. These were almost graceful steps, skipping here and there as they got louder and closer. 

A gunshot echoed from somewhere very nearby followed by familiar melodic humming that had James perking up. James felt a full-body shiver overtake him. Probably the effects of dehydration taking hold. Hallucinations were a side effect, weren’t they? Had to be, because there was absolutely no way in hell, no matter how much he might wish it to be true, that this was real. 

“Honey bear?” that same honeyed voice sing-songed down the corridor. “Shout if you can hear me!” 

“Tones?” James breathed, hardly able to believe it. Rumlow’s eyes swung toward the open door and his mouth twitched in a grimace. Maybe it was just some kind of paralysis then? Pity. 

“James!” his hallucination called. “C’mon baby, this will go a lot quicker if you let me know which of these deep dark holes they’ve stored you in--Hey!” 

Tony’s form filled up the doorway for just a second and then he was right there standing in front of him, blocking Rumlow’s view of the dumbfounded look on James’ face. Tony looked... different. Had grown a very artfully designed van dyke. His face sported more lines than he remembered but his mouth had that same curve to it where the corner of his mouth lifted then spread into a sweet little smile that never failed to take his breath away. Then it dropped just as quickly as it appeared into a worried frown, complete with narrowed eyes. 

“Jesus, honey, what’d they do to you?” he wanted to know. 

“You came,” James croaked in disbelief. He hadn’t thought--and it had been so long since they last saw each other. Tony was meant to be safe from all this and they were so having a conversation about this later. Instead, James just lurched forward to bring their foreheads together and soak in the skin contact he’d been missing for years. 

“Of course,” Tony stated more than answered. Like it was an incontrovertible fact that he would and this exact sort of thing hadn’t broken them beyond repair before. “Where else would I be, huh?” 

Warm calloused hands were pressed up against his neck, tilting his head this way and that. Tony methodically checked James over the best he could, eyes darkening when he ghosted over James’ side and he hissed in pain revealing his still healing stitches. 

“Who?” Tony rasped, carefully tugging James’ shirt back down to cover the wound. He was moving quickly then, to pick the lock on the cuff that held James to the floor, then taking James’ weight when he started to slide sideways without that anchor keeping him partially upright. 

“James,” he said soft but firm. “Who?” 

James jerked his head minutely in Rumlow’s direction not out of fear of the man but the crick in his neck. Tony turned on Rumlow instantly, gun in his hand-drawn. On the floor, Rumlow’s fingers started to twitch. Apprehension bloomed within James that made him want to yank Tony back to his side, desperate to keep Tony safe in any way he could. 

Rumlow was a stone-cold killer and Tony was well, Tony. He didn’t actually touch the Hydra agent or acknowledge him much more than to toe at his shoulder and keep the other man on his back. He fished a little black rectangle out of his pocket and thumbed along the side of the casing. The other side lit up in a line of glowing red. 

Rumlow gurgled the same he had before, with his mouth frozen open on a scream, and his back bowed as if the intensity of whatever was happening to him had been dialed up to 100. 

“Time to go, platypus,” Tony said, not cheerfully enough to hide his pinched expression while helping James get his feet back under him. James hadn’t taken a single step yet and was already shaking all over. He hoped Tony had a plan. They slowly made their way to the door and upon reaching the hallway James balked at the bodies on the floor. 

“Hey, J.” Tony had begun helping James in the direction of what he hoped was their exit. He almost sobbed when he heard the dulcet tones of JARVIS responding in Tony’s earpiece. “Once we’ve cleared the facility, isolate and maximize the sonic frequency of the gentleman we just left behind, would you?” 

He took another look at James and his smile went a little feral causing James’ stomach to swoop in a strangely pleasant way. James had a hard time disagreeing with the sentiment. 

“Belay that, J. The entire facility, please.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fic! As always let me know what you think! 
> 
> ***Spoilers***
> 
> Rhodey gets captured by Hydra who keeps him chained in a room and interrogates him. He gets stabbed in the side and eventually they move on to dehydration as a method of torture.


End file.
